The Stars, Solitude, and You
by ItCouldBeSweet
Summary: It's not... It's not what Sam thinks it is. Dean just wants some alone time with Cas after a rough night, nothing more. That doesn't mean it's a date, right? Another installment in Fragments.


Dean looked up into the rear-view mirror to see Cas's rigid posture and the discomfort -restraint- emanating from his eyes. He was doing all he could to keep his ass planted in the seat and to not lunge forward. "I'm telling you, Cas, I'm fine. I've had papercuts worse than this." The fingers holding the near saturated gauze to his head were becoming stiff again. While driving, the only relief to be had was to bend them a couple times. "You don't need to heal every wound... Don't wanna be babied for every little bump and bruise I get."

For a moment it seemed like Cas was going to respond. Instead, he bowed his head.

"I don't think that's the point," interposed Sam, sagacious as usual. Always with a comment, always an intermediary. Well, maybe that was a good thing. Sometimes the only way to interpret Dean and Cas was with a decoder ring.

"Seems pretty simple to me: I got banged up by a demon douchebag, Cas wants to kiss my booboo better. He'd do the same for you if you got hurt. Minus the kissing part. Minus the kissing part, right?" he called to the backseat passenger.

"Yes, I... I guess so," Cas replied, sounding more befuddled in his answer than Dean liked. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Sam sighed through his nose. "You really don't see it, don't you?"

"I guess not, so why don't you enlighten me, Dr. Drew?" These little games with Sam, being so indirect and ambiguous with his answers and insights was becoming straining. By being this way, maybe Sam thought he was helping Dean out, having the best of intentions in mind, but it was becoming a carrot-and-stick routine; keep running toward the tantalizing bit of realization that is just barely out of reach. He needed a break.

Sam laughed while sounding appalled. "That's not my place, Dean! Not while both of you are in the same space. If you can't figure it out, you ask Cas, not me." He turned to look out the window to hide the amusement on his face. "The densest person on Earth, and I'm his brother."

"Yeah, yeah, yuck it up over there, Chuckles. Now rip off some more gauze, I think this piece has just about had enough." He tossed the soiled material to Sam without looking and hoped it landed in his lap or on his face or in his mouth or something. The sound of disgust was satisfying enough.

What led to the nasty bump began 3 days earlier with a warning from Castiel. After having an increasingly rare rough spell of waking dreams, Dean had requested some time alone in his room. Although he thought he could more quickly recover this way, he would always feel guilty for temporarily banishing his boyfriend. Cas wanted nothing more than to console Dean, he knew that, but they both knew that there was also no correct way to do so. It was becoming more and more difficult for Cas to leave; Dean could see his face grow stern and the hesitation drawing out longer each time. Being alone isn't working. You're a fool, but I'll respect your wishes.

Seeing that Cas was cast out and in desperate need of a distraction, Sam asked him if he wanted to tag along as he went into town to get a few errands done. As Cas later relayed to him: "He said you were ready for 'round two' after Kevin's visit, so going to a grocery store was a necessity. And after that he told me, if I wanted to, he could bring me to the bakery you like -the one that sold the strawberry pie you belligerently shared with us- so I could get you a treat to decrease your melancholy. I was naturally wary of his generosity but decided to go. He had dropped me off in front of the bakery and left the decision of what I should do up to me. Not that I needed his permission. It was my intention to return here to store the pie -which is in the refrigerator, sit down Dean, I'm not done- and leave to be left to my own devices. But as I browsed through the displays, I felt I was being watched. I knew I was. I could feel them once I stepped outside. If I was being observed then there was an exceptional chance Sam was, also. But I could not see them. Even so, they saw me surveying and shortly after their presence was gone. I told Sam immediately, who was waiting on line. The woman behind him seemed to be startled by my appearance. With the near innumerable amount of demons and angels roaming this planet, you think humans would have seen that happen by now."

And so it was for the next few days. Whenever they left the bunker, with the help of Cas's angelic sonar, the watchful eyes of demons were on them. Cas couldn't tell the exact amount, but it was more than one. Never once they they attempt to make a move to threaten or attack them, which was far more unsettling. Demons could be inept dickbags sometimes, but being stalked like a zebra, by human or otherwise, was something that needed to be addressed.

They had to have known Cas knew they were there, but each and every time he tried to hone in on their direction, they skipped town. Like as long as he did not actively search for them, there was no reason to leave. Worse yet was how long this may have been happening; Cas wasn't around all the time when either of them left the bunker. He also tried venturing out of his own, flying off to any random location to see if they followed, which they did, even if it took they peeping demon buddies a couple minutes to catch his scent.

A plan was made, to draw the bastards out and get some answers. Fairly simple: Cas as the target grabs their attention and they flock toward his general direction, a place where their view of him would be obstructed for a time (Cas being alone in a secluded location would raise no suspicion, being the loner he is), and with the help of a map of the area, various items that have been dried, crushed or drained for spell usage, and the flare of a match, a good indication of their location is revealed. Either Sam or Dean sends a prayer out with the information, Cas quickly picks them up and their merry band heads in for a little data extraction.

Which is essentially what happened. Up until a point. After Sam got their general location, a spot about 50 yards away from the long since abandoned farmhouse Cas was currently in, the angel dropped them to a fenced off part of the land bordered by what the map showed was a small wooded area. While the demons weren't too shocked to see them, something told Dean they would rather have had their presence continued to be cloaked by distance, cover, and the darkness of the evening.

Only two for this surveillance operation; a male and a female. Nothing the three of them couldn't handle, but steady hands gripped blades and bottles of holy water rested in pockets ready in wait. The plan was to contain any violence until after they talked, but plans have a solid habit of going down the toilet very quickly.

Dean waved a free hand. "Hey there. Not sure if you haven't noticed by now, but Cas isn't too fond of being stalked by strangers. Well, he's not fond of strangers or anybody, really. You should know that, though, right? Since you're stalking him."

"Why are you doing it?" Sam interjected, sounding as amused as the demons before them looked. What's wrong with a little friendly banter with the enemy before you interrogate and murder them? Gone are the good ol' days.

The female's posture relaxed, obviously not feeling threatened. Her face was shaded gray from shadow cast by the white light of a near full moon. "In all of your years of hunting, has that ever worked? You trap the party you're after and ask 'why' and 'what' and expect an answer. Have you ever gotten one?" While her tone was intransigent, her voice was smokey, thick. Like honey. A shame that chance of this ending in her death was 99%.

The glint from Castiel's angel blade caught the corner of Dean's eye as he moved forward. "Answer," he rumbled, simply.

"Well, since we were found out, and," she looked down to her feet, "we're not bound by a trap, we have no particular reason to answer any questions and can leave at our leisure." With an air of antagonism, she concluded, "A shame you couldn't give us what we wanted, Castiel."

Dean was surprised to see Cas take the offense first, that blade lunging out to strike a deep gash across the left side of her face. He could have killed her easily attacking from the side as he did, but even now information was paramount: no killing until deemed necessary. The woman let out a strangled cry as the man next to her lunged straight ahead toward Sam who was out of Dean's line of sight.

He momentarily went through a mental list considering whom to help. Sammy's goods were a little more fragile than Cas's, so he turned around to his brother, arm raised as the demon struggled to pry the knife away from Sam. The demon must have expected this as he turned his body to the side and landed a kick directly under Dean's ribs, knocking all the air out of his lungs and sending his stumbling back, falling to one knee trying to regain his breath.

Cas was shouting although he could not make out the words; Sam managed to kick out the knees from underneath the male, but he made a valiant effort in holding on. Using Sam's exertion against him, he let go of the blade and moved over, the taller man nearly falling face first into the ground if not for the demon pushing himself up and forward, tackling Sam to the ground while caught off guard. The crack of bone hitting bone sounded like a whip in the night's stagnant air, crickets have long since ceased their call.

Air had not quite refilled his lungs yet, but that concerned Dean little. Right now all the mattered was getting that asshole off of Sam. Crush his skull with the heel of his boot. Shove the demon blade into his stomach and tear apart his guts as it slid up, up, up. Yank him back by the collar and slice his head clean off...

His knife. Where in the hell was his knife? It must have slipped out of his hand when he was kicked. But how had he not noticed? When did he get so sloppy?

When the fantasies of mutilation and bloodlust began.

No time to look. Holy water. A shove. A god damn roundhouse kick to the head, just get him off of Sam. An alerting cry from Cas behind him stopped him cold in his tracks. By reflex he ducked down and turned to meet the threat, arms raised to deflect what he knew had to be a swing from the knife that had slipped from his grasp. What was intended to be a decapitating blow was avoided, but the gash to the forehead was not. In the past Dean had received much deeper and longer cuts to much of the surface of his body, and the pain they brought was a movie he had seen many times before. The demon blade was different. It burned. Waves of heat emanated from it, down his cheek, across his forehead. Spreading like a venom

A punch to the woman's jaw was all the time that was needed for Cas to approach from behind and impale her between the shoulder blades, the end of the angel blade catching the moonlight, and in that moment, short as a snapshot, the scene before him seemed surreal. Dean was living in an old black-and-white film, the gray light sucking the pigmentation off of everything it touched. While the color remained the same, he returned to his senses: the crumpling body of a dead demon, Cas with an expression Dean couldn't read, blood seeping into his eye which only added to the sting, and the grunts of Sam and the other demon continuing to fight behind him.

Sammy.

Dean bent down unhook the woman's fingers from around the knife and, just in his line of sight, caught the flutter of Cas's coat as he stalked past him. He sure as hell was making Dean look rusty tonight. Was that because of...? Possibly. Even if that's the case, so what? Deal with it. Either you work around what's blocking your path or your drive straight through it.

With a fistful of hair for leverage, Cas drove the demon's head back to meet his knee; by the nightmarish sound of impact, blunt and low, something Dean could feel vibrate like a bass in his chest, it was enough to kill an ordinary human. And this was Cas when he took it easy on someone. The demon, very much disoriented, put up an effortless struggle as Cas lifted him to his feet. Only now could Dean see the more superficial wound Cas had received: a dark spot above his right eye and a thick trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. Strange enough, the sight didn't trigger anything within him. _Not bloody enough_.

A forearm wrapped around the captive's neck tight enough to make his eyeballs bulge. Maybe with a bit of dark humor, Cas pointed the tip of the blade to the corner of his eye, the demon unconsciously blinking against the irritation. The angel looked to Dean, dark but in control, and cocked his head toward Sam. Go check on him, I'll handle this.

Sam had seen better and far cleaner days, but would survive his injuries, especially after Cas healed them for him. The guy with the knife in his face, on the other hand, was uncooperative as expected. "What's the point of talking if you're going to kill me anyway?" "Fuck you," and the ilk. The more ominous remarks referred to Crowley.

"No surprises there; of course this goes back to that pretender. We wanna know why."

His smile was a flimsy thing, but cocky all the same. "I'm sure he'll tell you about it soon enough. In the meantime, why don't you ask the bloodthirsty angel perched on my shoulder."

All things demonic had a penchant for bullshitting, so chances were this guy was following fraternal tradition. He was going to die, so why no mess around first before the hammer falls, right? Plant a seed of unrest in the order?

Before confusion and indignation replaced it, Dean saw it in his face: panic. However Cas's brain works, something in there clicked true, or there was a spark of recognition. He knew or thought he may know something. Then was not the time to become upset, so he swallowed it down and continued to ask questions, which the guy had no time for. He tried to escape by leaving his host body but was pushed back into it by Cas, the howling of a storm quieted once back inside, only to meet his end with a fatal lobotomy. They didn't get the answers they wanted, but with being such a flight risk, there was no other option than to put him down.

Sam opted for the free surgery which was probably for the best; there was more swelling and discoloration than blood. Cas wiped at the corner of his mouth and viewed the blood there with disdain. The inflammation around Dean's head wound was regressing, beginning to feel like a regular old cut. Now if it would only stop bleeding.

Home was closing in, a place where he could duct tape his wound in privacy and comfort. But it wouldn't be. Something wasn't right. He could see it in Cas, little quirks couples pick up after being together for so long, and he and Cas did essentially fall into that category. What was more than likely BS lines spit out from someone with nothing to lose had bothered him. Cas, who would hold eye contact after you screamed at him to knock it off, broke it off shortly after making it if he looked at Dean at all. Hands clasped together in his lap, ever enduring, fidgeted. Making circles with his wrist, tightening his fist while he remained placid all the same. Why now? Out of all the lies and crap Cas has ever heard, how was this different than any other?

And why did it get Dean hot and bothered seeing Cas go Jack Bauer on someone?

Dean increased the pressure against the cut, probably disrupting the healing process and making it bleed out even longer. Really? You're thinking about that now? _Really?_

It was true.

In a truly sloppy and roundabout way befitting of him, circuits began to connect in Dean's mind. _If we go... Because Cas likes... Maybe... I want... _He wanted what was best for Cas, or what he presumed was something that Cas would tolerate to allow him to feel better. No, that made it sound like charity which he would deplore. _It _would be just... nice. _It _was something he should have done over a month ago.

Damnit! Why was he making such a big deal out of something so insignificant? Doesn't matter because it's settled. Dean was only moments away from kicking his own ass.

Parking the Impala near the bunker's entrance, Dean commenced barking out orders. "Sam, you're out. Cas, up front."

Sam nearly choked on the air he was breathing. "Wait, what? Where are you–"

"Don't argue with me now, Sammy, or ask any questions or draw this out any further because I'll lose my nerve." Like his knuckles turning snow white, about a breath away from tearing off the steering wheel wasn't any indication of that.

"Is Cas even allowed in the front?"

This car needed an ejector seat like the real Batmobile. "Move your ass, Sam."

His younger brother obliged with a titter, and Dean couldn't help notice as Cas brushed past him that Sam inclined his head a little too close to Cas's. Whispering. Oh God, he better not be. The last time Sam gave his gullible little bird advice he was quoting Will Shakespeare and embarrassing the hell out of the both of them. Then again, it all resulted in Sam being abducted and returned home drenched in seltzer water and a little frayed around the edges. He _should _have learned his lesson since that. It took long enough for him to recover, tiptoeing around Cas and tying his tongue into knots for days. What could he possibly need to tell Cas in such secrecy? He better not dare fuck this up for him, not tonight. Cas didn't hesitate or give Sam any indication he heard him at all – ignoring a pest, a non-issue, or trying (very well) to put his best poker face on. Given Cas's low approval of bullshit, it eliminated some options.

Dean took one last look at Sam as he made a U-turn on the small dirt pathway. Though the entrance light cast a shadow over the front of him, he could still make out the glow of a genial smile. Nothing mischievous or ominous hidden within it, so genuine it was more nerve-wracking to Dean than if Sam made a slicing motion across his neck. Honestly, he kind of wished for that now. A quick wave of the hand and Sam turned around to head inside.

It was a short crawl until they hit the main road again. Not that they would be spending much time on that, either. Just long enough to escape the artificial glow of the city.

Cas rummaged around for something on the floor between his legs. "Would you like another strip of bandaging?"

An observatory glance to the one he already held showed that sounded like a good idea. "Sure."

* * *

Oh God, this was weird. This was stupid. This was stupid and weird and he wanted to go home. This is all he could come up with? Cas... this is his first time, shouldn't it be more...? More what? Lively? Surrounded by people, witness to how deeply in love with each other you are, to add energy and embolden yourself? Some asinine crap like that? A better setting, maybe a place with a little more light. A place Cas would remember. Well, he can't forget anything, so something impressionable would be more accurate. Something that years down the line would stand out, bold enough to remember the date, temperature, conversation, clothing, phase of the moon, temperament.

He was being too high-strung now, all nerves and paranoid when he should be on the exact opposite of the spectrum. What about Dean's first time? Well, he was more confident as a teenager, but most of it came from arrogance. Until it happened. Nerves and paranoia. Shy. He could never imagine himself as being at a loss for words, sitting next to such a beautiful girl, one he talked to so casually with otherwise and now flopping like a fish on the deck of a boat.

Because it was normal. Dean couldn't see such a thing at the time, truly understand it other than feeling and being in the moment, but after years of reflection and rumination the reality was obvious. This was something normal teenagers did, all a part of the experience like graduating and getting your license. These things were something he could achieve or did achieve. The girl before him... she acted like a portal and a representation of his future. The future of a hunter. Why care for her? She'll never understand your life. She can never become involved in it. She'll die. In a couple weeks time you're going to move for the nth time. Why fool yourself? Why tease yourself with a life you can never have? Normal will never have you.

Sleep around. Fuck with no attachments, try as he might. Line 'em up and knock 'em down like shots. A fragment of love, a regular Monday to Friday, 9 to 5, two kids and a house in the suburbs life could offer. Another childhood milestone robbed of him.

Was that the deal here? Cas and him, they didn't need to do this – way beyond it, really. But here he was, in the middle of scenic nowhere with an angel in a seat that had been molded to the contours of Sam's gigantic horse ass over the years. Was this all just an attempt to right an injustice done to him from the moment of conception? Or was he playing pretend again? A mockery of... normal.

No, he answered the incessant voice in his head. It's much simpler than that. The nerves remained but not for the reason they had before.

We're here. Let's just go with it.

"Why here?"

Dean wasn't even done with his confidence-affirming inhalation before he was assaulted not only by the question, but rampaging urgency to speed back home and hide under his bed.

_Knock it off, Winchester. Calm, cool, casual, remember? You know you're more judgmental than Cas is so stop being a baby._

"Why here?" Dean repeated.

"Sam told me you wanted to be alone with me for awhile. On the drive here I was trying to figure out what he meant by that; we're alone very often. While that may be true," he said with a hint of a sigh, "I deduced that it's not a definitive solitary occasion. When are Sam or other parties not in the room adjacent to ours, or down the hall? We rarely have true privacy."

"Definitely not incorrect there."

"I look at this location and while it is certainly isolated, I still do not understand why it's here you wished to bring me to."

Yeah, it's not obvious at first, can't blame Cas there. In a way it seemed more like a place Dean would revel in. He knew the moment this excursion blossomed in his mind that Cas would ask this question. The response to his answer is what twisted his stomach.

"Hop out and I'll tell you the cheesiest story ever told."

Cas looked at him incredulously. "Cheese?"

Hopelessness never looked so endearing. The silence spoke of his falsified displeasure for him. "Just get out of the car, would ya?" If he weren't so damn cute...

They exited, Dean being very quick to slide onto the hood of the Impala with a fluidity learned from practice. He motioned for Cas to do the same, which was not as graceful, not that he tried to mimic Dean.

"I've been here once or twice before, before you took up residence with us." Dean looked ahead. "Those nights were all you want is some alone time. Clear out the cobwebs. And it wasn't until tonight that -it probably sounds profoundly dumb so I won't care if you end up laughing at me- it reminds me of you."

"Perhaps I would laugh if I understood your reasoning."

Cas was justified in having a perplexed look on his face. Even he could see that, well, it wasn't unique here. Dean, not a stranger to a little trespassing, picked a lock to open a dirt path trail lined by trees not a long distance from where they were parked now, the nose of the car just passing the line of vegetation. Unfortunately the vast flat plain before them was slowly being encroached upon by land development; where now in the distance stand houses had been nothing when Dean had first visited. But still, even the lights coming from them were small. He would claim this land for a little while longer.

Having no sides and smooth surface, this probably seemed dull. Oh crap, wait a second. He said this place is dull, yet it reminded him of Cas. Does Cas think he meant he's boring?

"Well, I mean, well – you're not boring if that's what you... I, uh..." Dean rubbed the back of his neck and groaned so loudly it sounded like a wail.

The coy smile caught Dean off guard. He could hardly see it with Cas's face slightly facing away from him, but it was there. The already small gap between then was closed. "First dates are normally a harrowing experience, right?"

"Date? This isn't... This isn't a date." Oh shut up, you idiot, of course it is.

"More so for you," Cas said matter-of-fact and completely blowing Dean off, "because I hardly speak of my interests, making location choice excruciatingly recondite. I've gathered from observation that there's stress involved – first impression, setting, small talk. A lot of stuttering, fidgeting... sweating."

If Cas kept this up, Dean's shirt would be soggy within a couple of minutes.

"Be that as it may, you chose this spot because of its significance to you. I apologize for not catching on as you may have wished I had." Dean could see in the way that Cas's eyebrows drew together than he was more disappointed with himself than ungrateful by his choice in atmosphere.

"Like I told you, it's not really that obvious so don't be hard on yourself."

"Is it time for cheese?" The curiosity was growing. As was the hilarity every time he said that word.

Dean settled back against the windshield. "Oh yeah, it's cheese time." He motioned for Cas to do the same.

Unable to stop himself, Dean rubbed at his bare arm vigorously – a nervous tic just like Cas said. "You, um... For as long as I've known you, you've always seemed like you were somewhere else. Not physically." which Dean knew wasn't always the case but wasn't going to acknowledge tonight, "but... you know."

No, it didn't look like Cas knew. Becoming flustered and well past the point of wanting to kick his own ass, he gave it a college try. "It's like you're daydreaming sometimes. Sam and I yap about something that doesn't interest you, or because you like it. I'd catch you at night, even years ago, staring out the window of our hotel rooms like you were watching a movie. Staring out the car window for hours on end. Time moves differently for an angel so you can enjoy that sort of thing, I guess."

A trickle of blood from his head wound was about to pool in the corner of his eye. A look at his fingers showed that it still needed to coagulate for more than seemed comfortable. He rubbed them together, smudging the dark liquid, briefly entranced by it as Cas's arm swept past his vision to touch the cut.

"Damnit Cas, I told you not to heal me."

"Just enough to seal the wound. You'll be pleased to know that it still hurts."

Sure enough, it did. His clean fingers traced the line, clean of all blood except for the scab sealing it, and the sting of a B+ papercut. It would have been a pain in the ass to clean all night, he gave Cas credit for that. The pain remained; the evidence remained. Isn't that what he meant by not healing it? Dean slipped up and payed for it, and got off easy as far as he was concerned. He was owed a reminder.

He still thanked Cas, not gratefully but he expected Cas to know he wasn't going to get it. They'll revoke your manly status, right? Save to profuse thanks for when he saves you from a shot in the head.

Hell, he was all off track now. Train of thought straight up derailed. Dean was going to close his eyes, recycle some air and...

"I wonder what you think about when you daydream. If you're remembering something or dreaming like a human does. I wonder that a lot, really. You're probably having some sexy romp of a dream and I'm sitting here like a jackass thinking it's something profound." He laughed. "But it reminds me of what you've seen since you've been alive, and I can see why you do it. Recalling the first creatures to ever live here, the first humans. Wars, extinctions. You saw the dinosaurs go tits up and did nothing about it, you bastard."

Dean could almost feel the flush radiating from Cas's cheeks. "That was, um, beyond my control. A soldier like myself had very little input in something... like that." He pursed his lips and huffed through his nose. Of course Dean knew that, looking at him like, _Don't sweat it, you dork, I meant nothing by it._ He slumped his shoulders. "I'm sorry about the dinosaurs, Dean."

And Dean didn't doubt he was, although he had absolutely no reason to be. Cas, a little too serious, a little quick to take things to heart. Sometimes it was endearing, wanting to squeeze him in a bear hug and call him his sweet, gullible, innocent angel while Cas, he was sure, would struggle against him like a rabid animal and order him to stop the terms of endearment. The other times, well, he wanted to smother Cas with whatever object he could.

He leaned his head closer to Cas and muttered into his ear. "I forgive you for killing Little Foot." Before Cas could question him or give him "the look," he placed his hand on the side of his face and pushed it to meet Dean's, both of their eyes reflecting very little light. The kiss was delicate, a leaf meeting the surface of the pond below it, but were always -always- as pleasing as something a little messier. From using his lips alone he could tell it was something Cas wasn't expecting, that beat of _huh?_, but only a blip in time. The angel pressed into it further.

Close-lipped, nobody settled. Any contact Cas had with Dean was worth just as much as sex. That should be true in all relationships, Dean supposed. Maybe that realization was in the corner of his eye, just in the blind spot; that a hand holding yours wasn't some empty gesture. Those eyes were coming into focus. He felt it. The contentment, the satisfaction and the comfort emitted from Cas when they were close... he could tell somehow.

But they were changing, weren't they? The sense of Cas's wings nudging him, wrapped around him, was becoming something undeniable. Dean was certain of a few things in life: Crowley's king of the douchebags and not hell, fire burns, don't cross the streams, and his angel's wings being a real, tangible thing. The sensitivity on his back was becoming more so since they had jointly found out last month. Skin covered or exposed, Cas always gave a shudder no matter how Dean touched there, a poke to a caress.

Or licking, right between the shoulder blades, like he did last night, done on a whim. Which rewarded him with a keen wail like he'd never heard from Cas before. Good thing the Batcave was large.

All angels had wings, just out of human perception. But that gap was being bridged. Dean could manipulate them, interacting with grace.

You know, no big deal.

Dean became so enamored with their progress and questions about what the grace interaction could possibly mean for the both of them, he didn't notice Cas's hand come to his cheek, the scratching of his fingers against his beard calling him back. It wasn't a coaxing rub, not at all – he was scratching like one would relieve an itch, or the head of a dog.

He broke the kiss, unable to contain his laughter. "I'm very glad I decided to grow out this beard now. So you can do inappropriate shit like that." The invasive hand was taken into his own, his thumb pressed gently into Cas's palm.

Cas looked at him playfully. "I'm assimilating your lack of self-control."

"One of my stand-out qualities. Right up there with movie quote recollection and my strict regulation of diet and exercise."

"But I'm also assimilating the knack for calling people out on their bullshit. _Dean_." Cas gripped Dean's hand more tightly and brought it down to rest on the car. "Which you seem to do in spades."

_If I wasn't such a good liar, I would have been dead, really dead, a long time before I met you. _Better to stick to being quiet this time.

He could have stayed like that for the rest of the night, easily. Caught in Cas's darkened hypnotic gaze, a soft hand covering his own, warm against the chilling night air. It would be simple to lose track of time this way; before he knew it the birds would be chirping, the glare of the sun beaming unmercifully against their eyes, and covered in morning dew. Cas would allow that to happen if he had his way. But Dean still needed to do something here.

With one last squeeze, Dean relinquished his hold on Cas and turned onto his back once more, arms behind his head. The angel remained still beside him. "When you look at the sky, what do you see? I see you look out the window and I think some nights, it could be the stars. You were there during creation. You saw everything, _everything_, being made, and I guess occasionally being destroyed too. I mean, that star right there? Under the moon?" Cas shifted onto his back as Dean pointed up. "You've seen that star, and you know it died off thousands of years ago while we're twiddling our thumbs here waiting for the light to go off."

Dean's arm was pushed further to the left. "This star. Well, the moonlight is obscuring it tonight. I saw both its birth and death, one humans won't see for another million years."

It's so easy to be casual about a time span like that when it's only a day for you.

"That's what I mean. Do you think about just... everything? Are you like 'I wonder what it would be like if this was still around?' or 'The ignorant humans should have done this?'"

He could sense Cas giving the question real thought. Maybe he didn't want to answer, or had no answer. Dean would try a different approach, and tread the water lightly while doing it. "Or, um... do you look up there and see heaven?"

From here, the sky sprawled forever, a blanket of black spotted here and there with white dusty specks. Most people looking at this sky would feel pretty insignificant: a little ant crawling on a rock within a solar system withing a galaxy within a universe. Dean and Cas weren't most people. Dean has seen a world other than the one above him; he's seen the abyss that is Hell, took residence in it and was destroyed by it. He's seen Heaven and its many corridors. And Cas, well, he's seen just about everything. Stranger still were the layers upon layers of alternative universes piled atop one another. You'll find there's a drink to shrink you further down the rabbit hole you go.

Wildlife filled the silence, crickets and an ark full of other insects, Dean was sure. Every so often the hoot of an owl was heard much further in the distance, somewhere to their right. A pleasing night -leave the windows open and have a beer on the porch- somewhat marred by a demonic encounter and a little blood and bruising. And words that hit Cas harder than he let on.

_Whatever happens with that happens. He seems okay right now, and that's not why I brought him here._

Maybe.

"...A little bit of everything, I guess," Cas said quietly, but was quick to remark. "No different than when a human daydreams."

"You can do it for hours on end. You probably wouldn't even blink if I shot you. Even when you're relaxed, you're intense. I was just wondering, you know," he mumbled, "if there was a reason for that."

Cas pursed his lips. "I don't suppose there's a reason. To drown myself in memories is not my intention when it does happen. But that ends up being the case.

"I do think of heaven often. How it used to be, not the way you've come to know it. My family – before and after the fall. Preceding my brother's rebellion, that's what I try to recall, not the turmoil that came right before and after." Cas's smile was faint, but Dean guessed that was because it hurt him so damn bad, the angel's heart being eaten away by the blight his family would never truly recover from. "We were a family then, in a traditional sense. Not only bound by our creator but enjoying the company of one another."

"Is it arrogant for me to say I know exactly where you're coming from?" Dean fear his expression mirrored Cas's own. "I mean, not on the same scale," he mentioned humbly.

His nod was slight. "Since then, we have all suffered from the vanity of others. Your father, my own and Lucifer... He changed everything. My brother was cast out, but the divide was already set in place. We became militaristic. Warriors. We stopped being equal and instead were given ranks, subordinates. Orders from chains of command you never saw and questioned the existence of. For the first time since creation, the kingdom was threatened. It could not be allowed to happen again. Heaven as we knew it, the heaven of your stories, was destroyed a very long time ago and replaced with West Point."

"Mom making breakfast on the weekend," Dean spoke to the wind.

"Simpler times. Far more ignorant times for the both of us. Of course it's not always that. I can get lost in the comparisons of humans now to your primate ancestors. How far you've come in such a short amount of time. I don't think you as a species can truly appreciate what an extraordinary evolution it has been. We never could have dreamed of the bipedal apes overpowering or outsmarting angels or demons, but here you are." Cas shrugged. "I thought it would have been a self-abasing turn of events."

"Now everybody hates us!" Dean sarcastically cheered, arms stretched wide. He placed them back down on his stomach and drew his feet up to bend his knees. "It changed you, though, being here."

That dreamily hazy look was back on Cas's face, like he was spacing out again. Eyes to the dark expanse above them. A deep breath. "The seed of change was in me before I took residence in this body. Humans... _you _were my catalyst."

Him. It was always Dean. Surrounded by people just like him -Kevin or Bobby or Sam- but it was always Dean he had looked up to and held to a higher standard, making a already foolish angel look even more foolish. That wasn't to say Cas did not learn from others because he did, using every opportunity to study, not only help him understand them better but so he could blend in and do the same. And he'd come back to Dean for conformation. Is the context correct? Was that not the right thing to say? In the end, his opinion was the one that matter more than any other. Always trying to do right by him even when he was in the wrong.

Why? His influence was god damn toxic! No one should learn from him or emulate him. That job is better suited to people who don't make jinxed deals, who aren't greedy and obsessive, or dream of both giving and receiving pain. No, Dean was not your guiding star or a beacon of improvement. His opinion should be viewed as revolting.

It should be, but never would. Cas would never allow such a thing. And was it all that bad being the cause for such a change? He had turned into something... beautiful, only now without the distorting voices of other could he treasure it. For him. Because of him. To be someone Dean could love, just as much as he loved Dean.

The internal monologue he was sorting through must have been visible on Dean's face: Cas chuckled and turned back to the sky. "So, yes. I think of many things when I appear to be thinking of nothing at all. I never fail to be in awe of... everything, and how I can still be surprised after so long a time. No wonder humans can be so reckless. So much to experience and accomplish in such a short amount of time."

Which was why Dean could not turn away Cas's proposition 2 months ago and why, as frightened as he was, beyond scared shitless, risking his sanity, he bedded Cas. Tomorrow is never guaranteed, not just as a hunter but as a human. Maybe that's why Cas did it too. Dean was not the only one at risk of dying, and he couldn't bear the thought of the person he cared for not knowing how he really felt. It was all very sentimental and gave Sam the ammunition he needed to tease them.

He owed Cas gratitude for being less then gentle with him at first, and the patience that followed. If not, the two of them would still be skirting around romantic tension and might have remained that way until the end of time. Dean closed his eyes and smirked, fully relaxing his body. When the angel wanted something, he made absolutely sure he got it. That's my boy: persistent, unrelenting, and a man-sized teddy bear you wanted to squeeze the stuffing out of.

The circadian rhythm coupled with the safety he felt was almost enough for him to doze off. For now, no-one was being stalked or targeted; if only for tonight, they could rest easy. If Sam needed him, his cell phone was on -fully charged- in the car, but that wasn't too likely. The bunker was a guiding example of warding, plus his younger brother thought they were... they were on a... the d-word. Oh, he'd leave them alone for now, but once they returned that idiot would be waiting outside when an even bigger idiotic grin on his face ready to snap a picture with his phone. Dean had never dropkicked a person before.

This place was great for some time away from others, to clear your head. No traffic, no noise, clean air. Dean thought of it as a little bit better with Cas around.

_I wonder what you'd think of my daydreams._

Drop your guard, just for a little while. Sleep began to fill his eyes... No, have to stay awake. He was too comfortable. Gotta move around, stretch, pinch his own arm, molest Cas. Maybe later. There was _would _be a next time, a time he might be prepared and not made on a split-second decision. Bottles of the cheapest wines known to mankind, the soundtrack of a metal up your ass mixtape, and a night of drunken grouping. Now that was a... the d-word. It would be a good excuse to touch his wings again.

His mind began to drift away to them, how the hell Dean was able to touch them and, more importantly, how Castiel reacted, when he overheard humming beside him. A tune Dean easily recognized and one the Cas surprisingly could recall without reason; it was even on key.

"When do you pay attention to the music I listen to?" Dean mumbled like he was already sleeping.

"I don't have much choice than to listen to what you like." Spoken like a true smartass. "It just... sprang into mind."

"Sing it."

Cas looked at him crossly. "After I've asked you and was struck down?"

"Yeah."

His expression remained unchanged, which only made Dean laugh. "Alright, alright, let's compromise. I start, you join in. I'm not gonna make a jackass out of myself doing this all by my lonesome, and it seems you won't either."

Cas's sour puss reached its breaking point and he turned over onto his side, facing away from Dean. He couldn't help the smooth grin slide across his face as he scooted closer to Cas, an arm wrapping around his stomach. "I'm not lying." Lips ghosting just above the back of Cas's neck, Dean spoke more than sang the first line of lyrics to the song, which only had the effect of his boyfriend tucking himself further into the uncomfortably bent fetal position.

But he persevered into the next line. Of course it was uncomfortable and strained; Dean really didn't want to be doing this. Something in his head, something he could not place at all, wanted desperately to hear the words spoken by Cas. Urging him to try, keep trying because it's something they could share. He intentionally left a pause at the near end of the verse, holding onto a flake of hope that Cas would finish for him. His head nudged the other, a silent push to continue.

"_I thought you died alone, a long long time ago._" Cas spoke the lyrics with as much enthusiasm as a child being forced to eat cauliflower. But it was certainly a success! A success if there ever god damn was one. Dean pushed Cas closer to him, the grip around his stomach expelling some of the air in his lungs and making the already grumpy angel grunt.

Forcibly singing was as enjoyable as Cas made it out to be, that was the reality. The reasons it was a victory remained a mystery, but Cas could tell, whatever it was, it made Dean happy. It was plain to see how he and all angels for that matter had a terrible time piecing together the logic of human behavior. The amusement park ride of emotional swings was probably exhausting to them. The results, though, were obvious. Some absurd crap could lighten Dean's mood and Cas was learning to latch on to whatever it was.

That's what they were and that's what they needed. Living for momentary, fragmented happiness, in all the odd ways it came to them.

Though he still sounded like he would rather not be singing, he did, continuing along with Dean. "_You're face to face with the man who sold the world._"

It was becoming easier and easier, albeit at a snail's pace, to combat the presence of his father and his younger self within him. Looking at the problem realistically, he knew they would never leave him entirely, but now they were losing out on the final word. This Dean, present Dean, was putting up his fists both to defend and fight for himself. The future, especially where Cas was concerned, was a wolf stalking close by, cloaked in shadow and teeth bared. He'd fight that son of a bitch too. Not yet. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not the day after. To hell with the past and the future. Tonight -now- is all that should matter.


End file.
